Terribly Bitter
by AMillionMilesAway612
Summary: Dear Friend, I am writing to you because Eli Goldsworthy has screwed my life over and I desperately need an outlet for my emotions. Please excuse any cursing, bad metaphors, or random rants that make absolutely no sense. Sincerely, Clare


**how do I describe this? Well, first thing is first. I got the format of this story from my all time favorite novel, The Perks of Being a Wallflower. If you haven't read it, I advise you to. You will be a changed human being after you finish it.**

**Also, I MIGHT post more chapters to this. Still debating. This story could be only this one-shot, or a two-shot, or a fifty-six-shot, I just don't know. But if you would like me to continue because you liked if, or if this story made you want to throw up on a kitten and you think I should never write again, please let me know in your comments.**

**Disclaimer- Degrassi is not mine. No, seriously. My "I Own Degrassi" t-shirt is just a joke =)**

**Disclaimer- I do not own this format of story-telling. It belongs to the wonderful Stephen Chbosky. I am so glad I don't have to say this disclaimer out loud because I cannot pronounce his last name.**

Dear Friend,

My bed was the only destination on the planet that didn't make me feel like I might fall to my death. So I rolled down the shades on my windows until everything grew distorted by darkness and curled up underneath my heavy comforter that smelled like Clorox.

Drumsticks pounded against the inside of my head, obviously missing the memo that my brain is not a musical instrument. My mom said I couldn't take another Advil today because she's worried I'll suffer an OD. I told her she was stupid, that people take ten Advils a day and nothing happens to them. She just gave me a cold look I was too numb to process and sent me up to my room. I didn't argue, just smiled like everything was sunshine and rainbows and walked up the stairs, through the hallway, and into my lair.

It's raining, and I'm almost glad I can't see into the outside world. Because sometimes seeing things can ruin things. I know that sounds weird, but it's true. It's like when you read a book and have all the characters and settings mapped out in your mind- what color their hair is, the fabric of the carpet, the arrangement of all the furniture- and when the movie finally comes out nothing is what you expected it to be. And you're left disappointed because no matter how hard you try, you can't seem to remember how you once pictured it all.

Lying here, in my dark, silent room, with the shades closed and my cell phone turned off, the only thing I can seem to focus on is the sound of rain beating against my window. Not a very original description, I know, but then again I'm not a very original person.

This isn't a thunderstorm rain that passes by in a matter of minutes. This is that soft, steady rain that ruins people's beach plans and fills up all the local movie theaters. The kind of rain that gives me a migraine, yet makes me feel like I'm touching the center of the Earth. It's perfect for a day like today, when the sun would normally pierce my bloodshot eyes and the heat would make my skin cry sweatlets. That's a combination of sweat and droplets, in case you didn't realize.

I glance down at my phone. I know that right now, Alli is probably sending me herds of texts a thousand miles a minute. And I know she's just trying to be a good friend, and I know I should be a good friend back and answer her, but for some reason I know that won't happen.

There comes a time when your life becomes so filled with helium, existing yet not really there, that anything else, anything solid at least, will be too much to handle. So helium becomes the only thing you accept in your life. Helium really isn't a good choice for a best friend, and deep down I know that Alli is a much better candidate, but she's solid and she's real and she's a true existence, and I'm not up for carrying the weight of reality on my shoulders right now.

I'm sure that for all of you who are still reading about my boring old life right now (God bless you), you're probably wondering what's making me act like such a drama queen. But let me just say that I'm not some high school bitch pining for attention. I honestly don't want any contact with humans right now.

Humans are shit. They really are.

Sharks are given a bad reputation. With Shark Week and Jaws and all those pathetic remakes of Jaws no one actually likes, everyone looks at sharks like they're this malicious, menacing species that needs to be slaughtered until all that remains of them is their blood in the ocean. Which doesn't make any sense to me. How can a shark be classified as evil when it's not even smart enough to know what evil is?

Sharks don't know that the people they kill have jobs and a family and are just swimming in the ocean trying to have a good old, innocent time. All sharks know is that we're in their territory, taking up their space, and we resemble a good old slice of seal.

True evil, in my opinion, isn't classified by the things we do, but the reasons we do them.

Sharks kill to defend their waters. Humans kill for the sake of killing.

Sharks fight each other to win. Humans fight each other to see the other person lose.

I could go on for hours, listing all the reasons why sharks are innocent and humans are evil. But lists remind me of school, and school sucks, and I'm going to stop writing the S-word right now because I'm not masochistic.

Anyway, every action a person does has a reason behind it, like a button that is too tempting for them to resist. And no matter how simple that action may be- buying a bag of Doritos, putting on a pair of shoes- there is always that little button in the back of someone's mind they just had to press.

But life moves pretty fast. People butt in and people butt out. And sometimes, if you let the wrong person in and they stand on your life for too long, they end up leaving a permanent footprint that distorts who you really are. Then they start to have control, pressing all the wrong buttons and turning all the wrong ways. And before you know it, you're out of line, in a world you've never been in with thoughts you've never had.

That's what happened to Eli Goldsworthy.

I honestly don't know how to describe what happened in chronological order. Because it all happened so fast, and the only decent metaphor I can think of is night and day. Night and day without the whole sunrise stage.

One day Eli is numb to the core, present in physical means but miles away mentally. Which didn't surprise me that much. I know the effects of anti-anxiety pills- Darcy had to take them for a while after she tried to kill herself. They're like emotion tranquilizers. They just tranquilize all your emotions.

Darcy loves That 70s Show. It's the only show we ever watch that can make her laugh out loud. Usually, when we're watching an episode that's half-decent, I end up pausing it for a few minutes because she's laughing so hard tears are streaming down her face. Then she'd finally calm down, I'd hit play, something funny would happen again, and she'd start cracking up. After a few rounds of this, instead of getting annoyed like I should have, I would start, laughing, too. Because laughing is just so damn contagious.

But when Darcy started taking the pills, she never laughed. Not even when I played the episode where Donna and Eric have to "dine and dash" at the restaurant because everyone else ditched them and they had no money.

At first it was hard to restrain myself from laughing, but after a while I wouldn't even smile. Because it's hard to feel happy when you know the person you love most can't feel anything at all.

That's kind of what happened to Eli. I never saw him laugh, or smile, or even look mad. He just always wore this blank expression on his face, and his eyes seemed to be like my life- filled with nothing but helium. It was hard to not go and try to make him feel better, but then Adam said something that cured my craving.

"Stop wanting to help him, Clare. You're the reason he has to be on these meds in the first place."

The words didn't come out mean or accusingly at all, but that didn't stop them from making my whole body go cold.

I avoided looking at Eli as much as possible during school, and most of the time I was successful. Except this one day, when I caught a glimpse of his cane a few inches away from another body. It wasn't Adam, or Fiona, or even Sav Bhandari. It was a girl, and the first thing I noticed was that she was really skinny and her hair was done in a bun that looked like it took hours to do. She was talking, and he was smiling, and his smile made me smile. But my smile faded when I realized that this was another girl who wasn't a lesbian making him happy. And then I started frowning because I was jealous. Not of her, but of him, because he could smile while on his anxiety medication when I could barely stop frowning without any drugs to weigh me down.

Two days later, things started spinning out of control. Katie Matlin assigned me to write a report about the school play, which, ironically enough, was directed by Eli. And Eli didn't seem to be so hazy anymore. In fact, every time I saw him he was in a different mood- happy, calm, and at times completely and utterly insane. I tried to shake it off, wipe him clean from my life, but that became impossible the day I "interviewed" him about the play.

Apparently, the play is nothing but a lying, trash talking, bitch fit to make me look like a horrible person who does nothing but stomp on people's hearts. And apparently, Eli doesn't love me anymore, which means he's "free".

And apparently, Imogen is stepping on his life with military boots because Eli obviously has no sense of direction for where he's headed. Because if he did, I know he would still be taking his anti-anxiety pills.

Imogen Moreno is clearly not a shark. There is no excuse for her to be damaging Eli's life the way she is. Everyone knows you can't just go off prescription pills whenever you feel like it. And no matter how stupid I think she is, Imogen knows it, too.

My question is, what kind of buttons does she have in her brain? Who does that to someone? Who puts someone's sanity in jeopardy like that? How can she fall asleep at night not feeling guilty? I still have trouble getting a good night's rest after breaking Eli's heart at the hospital.

Then again, there is no reason for me to feel guilty. Eli said himself that he's never been better. I should go to sleep with a smile on my face knowing that I did him the best favor of his life.

I left.

...

...

...

...

...

Sorry for the space. My own words struck a cord in me.

I wish I could say that I wish Eli and Imogen well. I wish I could tell you that I'm not full of bitterness and hatred. I wish I could set a good example for you and just be happy that Eli is happy.

But if I tell you that, then I'd be lying.

I may be a terribly bitter person, but I'm no liar.

Sincerely,

Clare


End file.
